


Colors

by davidg5911



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 09:25:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11597745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davidg5911/pseuds/davidg5911
Summary: The hyper-sensitive smell, taste, hearing, and touch of Matt Murdock paints a beautiful picture of Frank Castle.





	Colors

**Author's Note:**

> It took me ten minutes so bear with me

Blue. Soft. Sweet. His breath. It floats out of him, light bubbles of him. Strong. Comforting. Immovable. Matt strokes the air, almost feeling his oxygen. His breath. Cool and calming. Matt never knew he loved this feeling so much. Euphoria. Frank’s laugh. Frank’s breath. Of all he sees, all he senses, this is what he notices most from Frank. Intoxicating. A drug. A breath. Sweet. Soft. Blue.

Green. Quick. Pounding. Throbbing. The adrenalin. It pumps through his body as he runs, as he fights, as his finger flickers so fast on the trigger like the heart of a humming bird. It pumps through his body as he’s dying, as he’s healing, as he’s spilling his own blood onto Matt’s bed so that some days Matt can still smell the copper in his sheets and is reminded of Frank. It pumps through his body as he touches Matt, as Frank caresses Matt, as they hold each other in writhing movements so abstract and so unknown. The adrenalin. Throbbing. Pounding. Quick. Green.

Orange. Salty. Tangy. His sweat. It permeates all corners of Matt’s house. He smells it. After long nights, in the morning, Matt knows what a sunrise would be. After saving Frank from death time and time again, Matt knows what a sunset would be. After a simple workout, or a simple run, Matt knows what a sunny day would be. It can be washed out, but the stain. It stains so hard. Difficult to get rid of. A part of Frank that will stay in Matt’s home. That he keeps. Tangy. Salty. Orange.  
Purple. Flowers. Frank’s love. What he gives to Matt. What he gets back. He tells him the color. The texture of the petals, level, thin veins, smooth. He keeps the flowers by his bed, on his nightstand, and he can smell the pollen it gives. Frank replaces them every few days, when Matt can sense them wilting. He renews them, with all the care in the world, and Matt is thankful for it. The flowers that had Frank on the computer learning how to take care of flowers, for Matt, grow strong. What he gives to Matt, and what he gets back. Frank’s love. Flowers. Purple. 

Yellow. Steady. Strong. Iron. His heart beat. Thick under his finger tips. Like a drum. It skips every time Matt slides his hands over Frank, to feel him, to see him in other ways. The way Frank loves him, so solid. Fixed. Firm, but pliable. Matt knows him, knows how many walls he’s put around him, to protect him, to bask in the light of the past and hide from the light of the future. The light that Matt brings. The heartbeat that breaks the walls of the old heartbeat, and brings something new. Something good. Frank’s heartbeat. Iron. Strong. Steady. Yellow.

Red. Blood. Pain. Suffering. The tears that stream down Frank’s face at the inevitable. The anger for the bullet that injected itself into the stomach of Matt, deep, painful, erasing dreams. He screams for him, to fight the bullet, to fight the rising darkness around him. Matt holds his hand while Frank holds his body. The will leaving Matt. His colors flying in Matt’s eyes, the eyes that can’t see the pain he’s causing Frank, the colors of Frank, his Frank, the love of his darkness, the angel to his devil. Choir boy. Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Frank’s suffering, pain, blood. Frank’s Red.

**Author's Note:**

> Ill do actual sex smut soon shhhhh


End file.
